


Pendulus

by Jaakkola



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Booby Traps, Fights, Ghosts, M/M, Motion Sickness, Nausea, There's Plot In Theory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23984911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaakkola/pseuds/Jaakkola
Summary: Flynn aimed, briefly panicked at the idea that hey, could one actuallyshoota ghost, and fired.The answer was yes, apparently, and Flynn was forced into a world of questions he never anticipated he'd have to ask.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	Pendulus

"Are you mad at me?"

From behind Flynn, he could hear Shaw take a somewhat aggravated breath. "Frustrated," the spymaster corrected. "I'm frustrated with you."

"In my defense—"

"I don't want to hear it," Shaw interrupted, tone sharp with a quickly thinning patience.

Flynn couldn't blame him, really; it was his fault they were in this situation, after all. But, in Flynn's defense, how was he supposed to know that the haunted manor was filled with ghosts that left traps? And not even the fun curse kind of traps where you opened a box and became a frog or something, but an actual enchanted tripwire trap?

Now the two were dangling from their ankles, a few feet from the ground. Shaw was busy doing something behind, and Flynn was inclined to twist around and see what was going on. It was an awkward motion, reminiscent of a fish out of water and flopping on land in a desperate attempt to find the briny drink once again, but it gets the job done and sent Flynn in a gentle counter-clockwise motion.

Shaw, meanwhile, was damn near folded in half, a dagger in hand as he worked to cut the rope around his ankles. It was a damn near impressive sight, a show of incredible abdominal strength to keep himself held in such a position for long enough to saw through a thick rope.

Flynn whistled appreciatively, and was met with a glare so murderous that it rivaled a knife between the ribs, which, if Shaw's weaponry wasn't currently on the ground, would have most likely accompanied said glare. "Not the time?" Flynn guessed with a sheepish grin as he slowly rotated back.

Shaw didn't bother with responding, just returning to his task at hand. Flynn sighed and looked to his fallen cutlasses that laid below him, well out of reach. He wiggled his fingers towards them anyway in a pitiful attempt to gather them.

From down the long corridor, something moved, and Flynn whipped his head up—or perhaps down, Flynn wasn't too sure—to see one of the resident spirits charging for the two. "Uh, Shaw, mate, l hate to rush ya, but—" the sound of something, someone, falling behind him caused him to look towards the ground, tilting his head as far as he could to see Shaw on his back. "Oh, well look at that," he said.

Flynn had something else to say, but a low wailing noise from the approaching ghost ripped that train of thought from him. He fumbled for his pistol, jammed into his belt so efficiently that it managed to stay on his person when the rope violently pulled him up. He aimed, briefly panicked at the idea that hey, could one actually _shoot_ a ghost, and fired.

The answer was yes, apparently, and Flynn was forced into a world of questions he never anticipated he'd have to ask.

Unfortunately, it didn't actually stop the ghost, and Flynn was filled with a sudden fear as the ghost lunged for him with no way to avoid it, having being pushed into motion from the flintlock's recoil.

There were hands on Flynn's ribs from behind, and Flynn yelped before realizing, despite how much of a right twat Flynn has been, that Shaw was pulling him out of the way of the ghost. Tides bless that man. Flynn fired at the ghost once again, and watched the spirit dissipate with an unearthly howl.

"Cover our behind," Shaw ordered, and Flynn followed Shaw's gaze to the other end of the hallway, where another ghost was charging from. 

Shaw, quite abruptly, let Flynn go, sending him swinging to the other side of the hallway like a pendulum. "You couldn't have centered me first?" Flynn asked as Shaw picked up his daggers and hurried to meet the ghosts halfway, leaving Flynn to rifle through his pouched pockets for ammo. The motion was incredibly disorienting, and a sudden wave of nausea hit him as he goes swinging backwards. He finds his pistol ammo, squeezed his eyes shut, and went through the practiced motions of reloading his pistol.

Flynn opened his eyes, still swaying across the width of the hallway, watching a ghost come through where the first one did. Flynn aimed as best as he could, as a moving target trying to hit a moving target, and was delightfully surprised to find his aim true. All those ship fights and drunken brawls were actually useful. His celebration was incredibly short lived, as the recoil sent Flynn spinning.

Flynn fought down his panic the best he could as a more permanent sense of nausea grew in him, biting down of a reflex to try and find something to catch himself on. As soon as his eyes fall on the ghost again, he fired, granted a blessing by the Tidemother herself by managing to hit it again as he's thrown back the other way.

Flynn's mother always said to look for the silver lining of storm clouds. At least he wasn't drunk or hungover—he would have _definitely_ thrown up by now, instead of only being close. He threw his arm over his eyes and groaned. His head hurt too damn much.

Deft hands caught Flynn's free arm, and Flynn looked to see Shaw trying to steady him. Flynn's hands find Shaw's shoulders with mild desperation, and Shaw, _tides bless him,_ stopped his swinging. "You're a much better person than I am," Flynn said. "I think I may vomit."

Flynn was too disoriented to understand how Shaw's expression changes. "Are those statements related?"

"No." Flynn closed his eyes. "I'm sorry for getting us into this. Please cut me down before I vomit, or start bleeding out my ears or something."

Shaw had an almost regrettable fondness to his sigh. "Give me a moment."

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact i somehow made myself motion sick while writing this. im going to bed.


End file.
